Implications and Gardenias
by SuperSandri
Summary: In which the walls of a flower shop house irises, gardenias, and conversations of the existence and occurrences of love. Jeankasa. AU. Rated T because Jean likes to swear.


**_Implications and Gardenias _**

_A/n: I'm cliche'd AU trash, so have an oh-so-original flower shop AU for Jeankasa. Originally posted on my tumblr. People seemed to like it, so why not post it here?_

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From the part of the shop closest to the main window, Jean looked at the array of cut flowers in buckets of water set up at his disposal. From the reflection of the large glass pane, he could see the store's only employee near the counter, spray bottle in hand as she tended to some rather young looking plants. "My mother means a lot to me, and since it's her birthday, I wanna give her something special. I've only been in here a few times and I don't know jack shit about floral stuff, but when you give someone flowers, the kind of flower gives off some sort of message, correct?"

Mikasa nodded, putting her spray bottle into the pocket of her apron and wiping her damp hand on the rugged material, "Of course, but the message isn't just in the flower itself, it depends on who it's from. If say, you gave a gardenia to a brother, you'd imply that you want them to feel joy in their lives. Or imply that you'd want them to have good luck for something." As she spoke, her finger pointed to a bucket by the counter, where cut stemmed versions of the delicate plant sat in a few inches of water. "But if you were to give one to someone who you weren't related to and liked, you'd possibly imply a secret love." The experience of working in a flower shop showed in her near encyclopedic knowledge of the plants.

"A secret love?" Jean questioned, looking over to the small shrub.

"Yes. Secret love," Mikasa confirmed. She stepped behind the counter of the store, checking the time on her phone as she did so. "We close up in 15 minutes, just so you know."

Jean took this as a sign to hurry up and simply opted towards a bucket of irises near the shop's door, as the childhood memories of mama Kirschtein tending to the same plants in the apartment balcony's pots were still ingrained into his mind. He took 3 stems out of the bucket and shuffled himself to the counter, "These'll do just fine then. Ma always loved irises."

Mikasa took the stems in her hand, "Lots of people do, Mr. Kirschtein. Do you need them wrapped?"

"That would be preferred," Jean answered, nodding his head.

Mikasa gave him an affirmative expression before turning around and walking to the small workbench behind the counter, where an array of paper and ribbon stood. "Any preference on the ribbon colour?"

"Anything'll do," Jean replied, leaning his hand against the counter and letting his weight rest on it. The edge of his foot touched something just slightly, and on a curious reaction, Jean turned his head and looked to see what it was. It happened to be nothing more than the same bucket of gardenias Mikasa mentioned before. The delicate plants sat in the container quaintly, stems soaked in several inches of water to keep the pure white flower alive.

The conversation re-ignited, due to Mikasa feeling somewhat bored with the flower wrapping process, which was a process she had repeated way too many times to find interesting anymore, "I have to admit, what you're doing is really sweet."

"How so?" Jean wondered, his curiosity on two things: the topic of conversation and the container of flowers in near him. Reaching down, he took a single stem in his hands, lifting it up and shaking the excess water off the end to better observe it.

"Not many people give flowers as gifts any more," Mikasa admitted. The truth in that sentence was apparent, as the amount of customers in the store in recent times was a little less than stellar. "Usually on holidays, but that's expected."

Jean held the gardenia up to the light, admiring the petal structure. No wonder such a flower given as a gift could imply joy, good luck, or perhaps secret love. "Hm, really? Why's that so?"

The newspaper Mikasa wrapped around the trio of irises was bound gently with a red ribbon, and as she tightened it just slightly, she shrugged her shoulders, "For once in my life, I don't know. Maybe flowers are too hard to take care of, and no one wants to take the time to take care of them." That was a possibility, considering how many people were giving plastic flowers as gifts, a trend that made Mikasa's blood boil just a bit. "Besides, fake flowers are getting more common these days. You can't care for a stick of plastic though, all you can do is let it exist and forget about it."

"That'd probably give a bad message then," Jean theorized as he watched Mikasa step towards the counter and set the small bouquet down.

Her fingers tapped on the cash register to ring up his order, "Oh? And what do you mean by that?"

Jean shrugged his shoulders as he put the gardenia on the counter, grabbing his wallet and opening the leather folds to access what was inside, "I dunno, might've just blurted that out. I do that sometimes." His eyes glanced to the register's screen briefly, indicating just how much cash he had to fork out. "I guess though…" He stopped to think, clenching the bills between his fingers. "… maybe getting someone a shitty stick of plastic would imply that you don't really care about them enough, since you can't care for those. And maybe, since the flowers aren't real, you'd imply that your feelings for them aren't real."

He slid the bills across the counter, along with a few coins. Mikasa took them and counted each one quickly, "Hm, perhaps…" Diligently, she opened the register and threw the cash in before collecting his change, "You just may be right. Besides, real love doesn't exist anymore."

Jean raised a curious eyebrow, "What makes you say that?"

Mikasa paused in her work, eyes looking up at him. From his expression, she could tell that he was genuinely interested in the conversation and not just making some bullshit small talk with a pretty girl in a flower shop. "… I'd be wasting your time if I told you."

"I'd like to know," Jean insisted, leaning on the counter with his arm some more. "I'm curious, why do you think real love doesn't exist anymore, Miss Ackerman?" The fact that he read her name off her tag was either very friendly, very polite, or oddly personal and creepy.

She grabbed coins from the register, gripping each one tightly as hesitation clouded her mind. When she read the job description years ago, admitting your opinions on love to a near stranger was nowhere in the fine print. But his curiosity persuaded Mikasa to at least tell him something, "I guess because I've never been in it."

"Neither have I," Jean replied, grabbing the irises and holding out his hand to accept the change. "But love ain't scheduled and shit. It kind of just comes out of no where and then you gotta deal with it."

"If love suddenly were to come out of no where, I doubt it would happen before you turn 25," Mikasa mumbled honestly, dropping the coins into his open hand.

Jean took his change filled hand and counted the money carefully, "You never know, Miss Ackerman. Love happened like that for my parents, somehow. It's hard to tell, but that was how my mom made it sound."

"And are you like your parents, Mr. Kirschtein?" Mikasa questioned, placing her elbow on the counter and letting her weight rest on it.

Jean shrugged his shoulders as he put down a few of the coins on the counter before putting the rest in his pocket. "I don't know," he admitted, grabbing the single gardenia in his fingers and handing it to her, his expression friendly and welcoming. "But like I said, love comes out of nowhere, and you just gotta deal with it."

Mikasa's face softened in surprise as she looked at the flower in front of her. With an eyebrow raised, she took it in her hands and looked down at it, her curiosity growing and growing. "Hey, are you buying this too? Do you want me to wrap it or something?"

She looked up in anticipation for Jean's answer, but instead, all she saw was the ashy-haired man turned around with his feet taking him out of the shop's open door.

And it was only when Mikasa went home and set the single gardenia in a small vase did she realize what he had implied.

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**_Disclaimer: I don't own a thing._**


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